Storm
by SparkKnight2
Summary: After Norway leaves Denmark and Iceland, Denmark loses control and Iceland attempts to cheer him up, but he needs cheering up too. Rated for violence and angst.


It was after the storm of yelling and clenched fists and he had lost control. A slamming door, a breaking window. Then it was silent. Paralyzing emptiness filled the house, but soon was fallowed by smashing and yelling. This time it wasn't fighting, he had lost it, and he needed to take his anger on something, on anything… Then it was over. No more breaking, smashing or yelling in his native tongue, only muffled cries and the repeating of words, over and over again, like a broken wind up toy. That's where he sat alone, in the rubble of his house. He had nothing else to break, and the tears running down his face would go unheard. He had never felt so alone in his life.

The door was cautiously opened and a young boy looked into the wreaked room. His violet eyes came upon the older, crying man. He then fully entered the room and stood at the entrance, unsure of what to do. The young man was never the one for comforting people.

'Danmörk?' The young man questioned from afar.

The older man didn't acnolage his words, probibly being muffled over his teary eyes. The young man came close to the other and wasn't sure how to do this, or if he should be doing such a action. His hand lightly tuoched the other's shoulder, hoping to gain some form of comfort in the small act.

'Danmörk..?' He asked again in a louder voice.

Then there was silence for a wile, only sounds are of the Dane sniffling and wipeing his last tears form his red eyes. The older man's hands which were scabbed with dryed blood. Ice's eyes opened and he then started to look where the old cabnet that held the first-aid-kit used to be, he moved over the broken wood and found the little red box. The older man watched as he walked towards him and sat before him. He opened the box and begain cleaning and dressing his hands. The alcohol burnt his tender skin, but the pain was welcomed. His body needed the distraction.

'…I'm sorry Ice…' The older nation said.

The younger just stared at him. Still not sure of what would be the best course. Should he leave him alone, or should he say something encouraging? Even if he wanted to say something, it wouldn't come out right. So he stood there, waiting for nothing. He would have to learn to live without his elder brother, without the gentle hand and occasional smiles, without the long nights. He felt a lonely whole open inside him, but he didn't dare to look weak now. No, now was when he needed to be strong. Now was when he needed to hold his companion close and tell him that it'll be alright.

But he didn't. He just shifted uncomfortably, hiding his fear and realization that his brother was really gone. Then a small nod came to the boy, keeping his eyes on the dirty floor. He wasn't sure why the other would be sorry, maybe he drove his brother away, but he cared too much for him to do that. No, he must have done it, but by the time he realized he was losing him it was too late. The silence was ear-piercing; both wished it to be over, waiting for the other to say something encouraging, waiting for someone to stand up and say it will be ok and that they can do this. But neither of them found such strength, this was a job that the now absent man held, even though his cold-hearted appearance he did care and at times like these he would rise everyone's spirits again, but now he was gone, and no one knew what to blame.

The taller man stood up, his eyes never left the floor. The other looked at him, he opened his mouth to speak, but yet again he couldn't find the words. He then bit his lip and continued looking at the ground. His eyes soon widened when he felt strong arms envelope him into a hug. He froze, but soon held the other back awkwardly. It was one of those moments; the awkward silence has passed; now no words were needed, like a silent conversation was being orchestrated between them. All they could hear was their pasty breaths and sniffles.

'It will be okay…" He cooed to the young man.

The younger felt the hollowness of those words. Then guilt steeled in him, he wasn't sure why, but he felt useless in the other's arms. He felt warm tears run down his face, he tried to stop them in vain, but they didn't stop and he started to sob, tightening his grip on the taller nation. The elder man rubbed his back, knowing his pain, he might have not seen his brother leave, but he was his brother and now he would have to take that role. But after all these things he still wondered why he had done it.

'I-I'm sorry…' The younger stiffened.

'Shhh… It's okay." The elder said, holding the smaller man close.

'…I miss him…' The silver-haired boy said quietly.

'Me too.' The older nation said, not moving from his place.


End file.
